Field Trip
by Keep.Film.Alive
Summary: A lead takes John, Sherlock and Lestrade to a preschool. Established relationship, Johnlock, talk of wanting kids, Sherlock being surprisingly good with children. M for snip of lovin' at the end.


Title: Field Trip

Pairing: John and Sherlock

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Rating: T for snippit at the end

Reviews are love!

"Are you sure he'll be alright around the children?" John glanced up at Lestrade and twisted his lips in thought.

"I think he'll be fine if they're the age group that can't quite talk. If they go crazy, we'll work something out so you both can talk to Ms. Gaskamp outside of the room. It'll be fine." Greg inhaled deeply and nodded his head.

"Is it bad that we have to worry about him performing experiments on them? Hell, I think he'd even pull out a gun if they cornered him. Poor brats." John bit back a laugh, Sherlock walked out of the building with Anderson nagging at him from behind. John, Greg and Sherlock got into the same car while Anderson took off to follow another lead on his own. The whole drive to the preschool, Sherlock's knee was bouncing rapidly and it seemed as if he were chewing on his lip from where John was sitting. John hadn't thought this would be a problem at first, but now he was beginning to wonder. 'Dear lord, now I'm worried he might actually pull a gun on them.'

When they arrived to the preschool, Sherlock couldn't help but notice the cautious glances Lestrade and John had been giving him since they stepped out of the vehicle. Lestrade stopped to ask a staff member which room Gaskamp was in.

"Oh, she's in red door. Just go out those glass doors and that whole section, the rooms go by door color."

"Thank you ma'am."

They stepped up to the candy red door, Greg knocked three times and waited. You could hear the children screaming as if they were being slaughtered, an adult woman laughed, some shouts of "Bubaaas!" and more high-pitched screaming. Lestrade knocked again. Sherlock's hand patted away at his thigh, his posture shifted slightly. John looked at him and tilted his head giving the "Are you alright" look which Sherlock responded to with a half nod half shake of his head. Whatever that meant.

The door opened. A young lady, very thin and frail looking, long brunette hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, no makeup, dressed modestly, and in John and Greg's opinion, very, very cute.

"Oh! Hello, are you picking up one of the children? I wasn't told anyone was being picked up early."

"Amy Gaskamp?" She nods. Greg holds up his badge. "We need to ask you a few questions about the death of your ex boyfriend, Paul Campos." She deflates a bit and looks back into the class room. By now, Sherlock had assessed that they were toddlers, approximate age of eighteen to twenty-four months. They were chasing bubbles and screaming as they popped them. He sighed in relief and made a double take when he noticed John watching the bubbles as if mesmerized and smiling goofily. Sherlock took a mental note of this. Maybe he could use bubbles to distract John when they got into arguments.

"Yes, um, but I can't leave them alone and I don't want to talk about this in front of them. They're starting to repeat words, at that age."

"John and I can watch them." Lestrade, Amy and John simultaneously snapped their heads in Sherlock's direction, the two men wide eyed in surprise.

"Um, Sherlock, that's great and all, but don't you want to hear what she says? And do your thing? You know?" Greg asks wearily, honestly, this is a big surprise, but Sherlock doesn't just work off of words, he needs to see her body language and her reactions, why is he opting out on this?

"No, you are perfectly capable at doing your job. We can discuss it on the way back. Someone has to watch the children while she's away, he's a doctor and I'm the world's only consulting detective, we're trustworthy, Lestrade, tell her we're trustworthy. Go on." Lestrade gave John a look, John shrugged, Lestrade sighed and turned back to Amy.

"They really are, well, John is. It'll only take a moment." Amy smiled and nodded, stepping out to let the two men in. John gave Lestrade a quick look over his shoulder to reassure him that it would be fine and the door closed.

The room was painted two shades of a minty green. The walls were covered with typical posters of children doing everyday things: Brushing their teeth, using the training potty, playing with a dog, eating ice cream, showing groups of multiple ethnicities and people in wheelchairs interacting. Signs such as 'Library', 'Science Center', 'Puzzles' and 'Nature Corner' labeled their designated areas. On the back of the red door, more signs with the children's names in colorful letters.

"Riley, Brayden, Marcus, Geneva, Mackenzie, Levi, Maya." Sherlock turned back to the children to begin matching names to faces and froze completely. John was on his knees, waddling around popping the bubbles with the children, still half his height. "John, you look ridiculous." John rolled his eyes and paused when one of the little girls, presumably Geneva, walked up to Sherlock. She was pale like Sherlock, had dark, almost black, hair with loose curls like Sherlock, her eyes were a lovely shade of green and her cheeks were adorably rosey. She looked up at him and smiled, reaching her hand up as if to take something from him and waited. Sherlock looked at her hand, a soft smile gracing his lips, he reached out with his hand, notably larger than her own head, and just when their hands were about to touch, she pulled her hand away and covered her face with both, letting out an incredibly cute giggle. Sherlock seemed confused at first, but his smile returned when he knelt down and pulled his scarf off. She looked up over her fingers and lit up when he offered her the scarf. Sherlock wrapped it around her neck loosely and made a shocked face.

"So pretty! Look at you!" She laughed a deep, bashful laugh and played with the scarf around her neck. Sherlock's smile reached his eyes when she looked up to him, reached both arms out and said "Pleash?" He lifted her up into his arms and stood, she was gasping dramatically at how high up she was, looking up at the ceiling and back down to the other toddlers. "Oh my, you're so high up. How on earth did you get so tall?" Sherlock gave her a genuinely confused look and chuckled when she brought her hands up with a puzzled expression and said "I don' know."

Several minutes passed before the door had opened again. Greg gaped in awe, Amy laughed though it looked as if she had been crying. "He's a natural." She said.

John was standing aside watching with a warm smile while Sherlock was sitting Indian style with a pointy wizard hat and oversized sunglasses reading "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" in a dramatically comical manner. Geneva was sitting in his lap giggling away.

John sat on the sofa with Sherlock typing away on his laptop. Nothing on the telly, once again.

"John." Said name hummed in response. "That little girl, Geneva."

"The one that wouldn't leave your side the entire time?" John smirked playfully. It truly was a sight, that little girl looking so much like Sherlock and clinging to him like a little monkey the entire time.

"Yes."

"What about her?" Sherlock stopped typing and scrunched his face at the screen.

"She was Cute."

"You're only saying that because she looks so much like you."

"Not true. She was much more intelligent than the others, she spoke more words and even used some sign language. Please, thank you and more. You could actually have a conversation with her. She's very bright. She even covered her mouth when she sneezed." John turned to look at his boyfriend.

"I have to admit, Sherlock, you surprised me today. I thought you didn't care for children?" Sherlock continued typing again, never once glancing at John.

"Never said I was horrible with them now did I?"

"No, but you were very adamant about staying with them while Lestrade talked to Amy. It just struck me as odd." John muted the telly and placed the remote on the coffee table. Sherlock glanced sideways at boy-thing-lover but continued typing.

"Something wrong?"

"I was just thinking and this question suddenly popped up. Sherlock, have you ever wanted a child of your own?" Typing stopped. Posture shifted. Eyes darted around. Knee bouncing. Chewing lip.

"Children? On my track record? Don't be silly." The cocaine, the experiments, getting bored easily, no sleep, no eating, married to his work, faking his death, disappearing for three years, being with another male, etcetera, etcetera.

"You didn't answer my question." John really wanted to know, of course he wanted to know, how could he not want to know? He loved Sherlock with all his heart, they'd been "official" for several months now, though he doesn't like thinking about it that way, but he cared about Sherlock and his wants and needs. If Sherlock said no, then that wouldn't be such a shock, but if he said yes, oh, where this could take them. "Please, Sherlock. You know you can tell me anything. I want to know." Sherlock closed his eyes and shut the laptop, tossing it on the coffee table.

"Three. Two girls and a boy. Preferably, the girls be twins, their hair long and dark. One would wear her hair curly, the other straight. Names: Annabelle, Abigail and Grayson. Grayson would be the oldest with freckles and sandy blonde hair, like yours, with hazel eyes and a good smile. A kind smile. They'd be smart, reliable, responsible and compassionate. But that was a dream lost long ago."

"Why?" John shot off immediately. Sherlock swallowed and turned his head away from John.

"I fell in love with you. No need for children. You're my dream now." John felt his face warm up, a light flush crawl up his neck, cheeks and the tip of his ears.

"Oh." It was incredible enough that he managed to get him to spill on wanting children, but that "We can still have children. I mean- You know, in the future, if we're still You know." Sherlock turned back to the doctor, his face was blank, completely unreadable.

"I'm all the child you need, John. I know it's hard enough taking care of me, children would wear you too thin. No." John sighed and scooted closer to Sherlock until their thighs were touching. He leaned over and kissed the taller man's shoulder, resting his head on it afterwards.

"I do want children though. And after watching you with those toddlers today, Sherlock, I really think you'd be a good father. You'd just have to Maybe put the experiments on hold for a while."

"And quit my career since you'd be in surgery for all hours of the day so I could take care of them." That's right.

"Do you think you'd get bored of them? You haven't gotten bored of me yet. At least I think." The last sentence was mumbled so Sherlock wouldn't quite hear it. He did though. Sherlock twisted in his spot and gripped John by his shoulders firmly, starring him straight in the eye.

"I will never grow bored of you, John Hamish Watson. Don't ever say such things again." His voice was stern, commanding almost. John remained silent for a moment, but eventually nodded. "It's late. You need your rest. We'll discuss this further another day. Go to bed now."

"You won't go with me?" Sherlock shook his head and picked up the laptop.

"Have to finish this."

"Is it work?"

"No."

"Then it can wait." John pulled the laptop out of Sherlock's hands and put it back on the table. Sherlock was pushed back against the couch as John straddled his lap, wrapping both arms around the long, slender neck. Sherlock hesitantly lifted his hands up to John's hips, hooking his thumbs under John's jumper. John leaned in the rest of the way, closing what little space was left between them. Sherlock pressed back into the kiss enthusiastically. Hands slid up John's torso, thumbs grazing over his nipples briefly and pulling the jumper off. John moved his lips, kissing down Sherlock's jaw to the 'V' of his neck, licking and sucking, moving slowly and sensually. His fingers worked at the buttons on Sherlock's ridiculously tight purple shirt and slid his hands over the expanse of Sherlock's chest and shoulders. Sherlock groaned into the touch and John brought his face back up to Sherlock's to look him in the eye. "Take me to bed?"

"Yes, darling."


End file.
